Came home from work and was fixing to have a quiet read of the newpaper when my eye caught the announcement of an engagement that evening: Allen Ginsberg was in town and about to give a poetry recital at the invitation of a local literary magazine. I almost fell off my seat. Rushed over as fast as I could. It was worth it, although Ginsberg demolished one of my cherished myths (he said 'Howl' was not a revolutionary poem - only a poem describing life in a pyschiatric ward) and failed to satisfactorily settle that nagging question about whether Bill Burroughs was or was not an inheritor of the Burroughs adding machine fortune.

Allen expressed surprise at the fact that the theater was full and people were asked to go to the balconies.